Heartbroken but that's Okay
by Alitote
Summary: Soon, Russia mused, he could understand. And Spain was the key to his enlightenment.
1. I was looking for you

**Cover image is not mine, if there's a problem with my using it please PM me privately and I will be happy to remove it.**

* * *

"Have you seen Toni?"

Gilbert glanced up from his lunch, the conversation he'd been sharing with Matt dying as he frowned, trying to think. Romano stood above him, arms crossed and scowling as he leaned against the wall of the lobby of the hotel.

"No actually," Gil realized, "Not since yesterday."

Romano sighed, "We were having drinks last night and I haven't seen him since."

"Did you check with Francis?"

"Yes, of course I checked with Francis!" Romano snapped.

Gilbert looked between his sandwich and Matt, who sat frowning awkwardly as he listened to a conversation he wasn't really meant to be a part of.

"If you don't find him in at least an hour come find me." Gilbert decided, internally cringing a bit as Romano looked between the two nations before rolling his eyes and storming away. Matthew had an eyebrow raised, a dry smirk prevalent.

"What?" Gilbert cried.

"I can wait until you find Spain." Matt said, "Even better, it would have given us an excuse to reschedule for dinner."

"Why not eat now and at dinner?" Gilbert asked.

"Because your friend is missing Gil!"

"Toni'll be fine, the two probably had a fight or something." Gilbert shrugged, "Toni's probably just trying to let Romano cool off-and only making things worse in the process."

Matthew sighed, rolling his eyes before leaning forward so his face was over the Styrofoam container holding his pancakes, "If you're sure."

"It's _Antonio_ , I doubt it's anything serious."

* * *

The hotel room was dark and quiet, two bodies still draped across the mattress and curled under the thick hotel bed sheets. The room itself looked pretty trashed, chairs and trash bins overturned with their contents spilling across the floor. A set of luggage was hanging open, clothes scattered around it. The desk was pulled flush to the foot of the bed, a small black bag lying across it with a broken vial's shards dripping with a long forgotten liquid. A small wooden trinket with a green silk ribbon lay half-hanging out of the bag, a Celtic design carved into the front. Everything was covered in darkness, the large thick curtains being drawn to block out the early afternoon light.

Somewhere in the darkness, a phone began to buzz and light up. The larger of the two bodies jerked awake, looking around in disorientation as he tried to figure out what the noise was. He frowned at the phone, processing it wasn't his as the buzzing continued.

There was a name flashing across the screen.

 _Lovi 3_

Ivan frowned, reaching across his bedmate to grip the phone in his large hand. The thought of crushing it crossed his mind but in the end he simply let the phone go to voicemail before turning it off. Beside him, the other nation slept on, seemingly dead to the world. Ivan chuckled as he looked down at the head full of wild dark curls, his fingers trailing through them.

Soon… soon he would understand.

Ivan debated on whether he could go back to sleep, a quick glance at his own phone revealing it was nearing a quarter after one. The official meetings didn't start until tomorrow; most nations were still arriving today although many had made it to the hotel last night. Today was a free day, a godsend before the stressful hell of meetings began.

He could definitely sleep the day away, but would it be worth it? Maybe the two of them could do something together. Although Ivan was tired enough that sleep was sounding better and better the longer he lay there in the darkness.

The decision was ultimately taken out of his hands however when the body beside him stirred with a groan. Slowly, as if they were in pain, the second nation sat up, blinking blearily in the darkness. He then became aware of Ivan's presence, jerking back in surprise and banging their head on the wall. Ivan chuckled as curses rang through the air, getting up to open the heavy curtains.

"Good morning comrade!" He grinned, looking back to his bedmate, "Don't worry, nothing happened last night. Just some drinking, and then I passed out here!" Ivan slowly crossed the room to the bed, kneeling across the mattress as he sat eye level to the other nation.

"I think it would be fun to hang out today before the meetings start, what do you say?"

Antonio frowned, like he was considering the option, blinking bleary dull green eyes and rubbing them with his knuckles. When he happened to move directly into the path of the sunlight streaming into the room a ring of gold glittered around his faded green irises.

Then a slow, stupid smile stretching across his sun kissed face. Antonio reached out to take Ivan's pale hand and nodded.

"Sí, I think that's an excellent idea."

* * *

Romano was about ready to break something.

Probably Antonio.

What right did that bastard have to make him worry like this? What if he was hurt or lost or… just where was he? What could have possibly happened between drinks together at the hotel restaurant and this morning when the idiot didn't show for breakfast?

The phone went to voicemail again and Romano shoved his mobile in his pocket furiously. Gilbert hadn't seen him, France hadn't seen him… no one had seen Antonio, and Romano was about ready to start a search party.

Romano was so angry he nearly ran over someone as he stormed his way to the elevator.

"Watch it pal!" America snapped angrily, dodging out of Romano's path barely in the nick of time, "Don't take Spain's new boytoy out on the rest of us!"

Romano whirled around, fire in his eyes to glare at America who only arched an annoyed eyebrow in response before a smirk took its place. Beside him, Japan was staring at Romano with a look of pity.

Romano marched in even steps to stand chest-to-chest against America, reaching out to grip the bomber jacket the young blonde was so fond of. His hold on the material threatened to rip the thing, it was ancient, and so America had no choice but to lower himself to eye level with the Italian when Romano yanked it forward.

"What did you say?" Romano hissed.

* * *

Romano was pretty sure he could hear his heart snap in half when he rushed through the door of the hotel restaurant to see Antonio sitting far too close to Russia than anyone calling themselves "just friends" would have done.

Antonio was laughing; something Russia had said setting him off. The large pale man was sitting amused, his hand inching over to cover sun brushed fingers and twirl around them.

"Well damn." Gilbert seemed to appear out of nowhere, leaning against Romano as he watched his best friend flirt with the Motherland, "This can't be good for anyone."

"Mon dieu!" Francis exclaimed as he made his way to stand beside the other two, looking in and finding Antonio just as he reached out to ruffle Russia's hair, something the Russian didn't seem to be expecting but was no less unwelcome anyways.

"Think he lost a bet?" Gilbert proposed.

"Perhaps he hit his head last night?" Francis wondered, turning to Romano, "Maybe he thinks he's eating with you."

Romano was silent, a lead weight settling over his chest. It felt like someone had connected a vacuum hose to his mouth and pressed "suck", the air in his lungs was quickly evaporating. Something cracked inside and his chest had actually started to _hurt_.

"Romano?" Francis frowned, reaching out to place a hand on the shorter nation's shoulder but Romano jerked away.

Without so much as a word to the other two Romano turned and speed walked away, losing his balance as he neared the corner and crashing against the wall before he disappeared towards the elevators. Francis and Gilbert looked to each other, a solemn expression shared between the two.

"Perhaps we should see that Romano makes it to his room?" Francis suggested.

"Screw that, I need some answers." Gilbert growled his expression darkening as he stormed past the host and headed for the small corner table. Spain never saw them coming, continuing to enjoy his lunch with Russia, who did see them. He frowned as the two approached; a look shared by Gilbert as he flopped heavily across the table and rested his chin in his hands.

"Ah! Buenos Días guys!" Antonio grinned.

Gilbert smiled patronizingly at Antonio, "Hallo Toni."

"Mon cher," Francis looked between Antonio and Russia worriedly, "Where have you been? We've been tearing the hotel apart looking for you."

"Oh, you have?" Antonio grinned sheepishly, "Lo siento… I was distracted-"

"Distracted?" Gilbert chuckled, his tone insincere, "By what?"

Antonio glanced guiltily to Russia, who smirked as if he knew some giant secret Francis and Gilbert weren't privy to. Francis' nose crinkled in disgust and Gilbert's plastic smile grew wider as rage colored his eyes.

"So, my dearest, closest friend," Gilbert sighed, reaching out to straighten Antonio's bangs, "You mean to tell me that while we've been worried sick about you disappearing on us, you've been schmoozing it up in here with none other than _Russia_?"

"Well-"

"When did the two of you hook up? Last night? Were you planning that or did this cold hearted bastard catch your eye while you were drinking with Romano and you thought, 'What the hell?' Might as well get it while it's good right?"

"What?" Antonio frowned, "Wait-"

The fingers in Antonio's hair twisted painfully, pulling the head forward as Gilbert snarled, "You idiot! We were all worried sick! Romano especially! We thought maybe you'd decided sleep in or something but he's been up all day trying to find you!"

Antonio was trying to carefully pry the pale fingers twisting his hair open, "I said I was sorry! I meant to text you, I swear!"

"And Romano? You and Vodka-breath over here were so busy you stood him up?"

"Stood him up?" Antonio frowned, "For what?"

"Weren't you planning to eat breakfast with the poor thing?" Francis asked, crossing his arms, "I must say Toni, this is a new low. I'd never expect this sort of behavior from you."

Antonio finally managed to pull his hair free, sliding closer to Russia as if for protection, "I've ditched people before, this shouldn't be that big a surprise."

"But to Romano?" Francis wondered.

"What makes him so different?"

The group was silent as the words sunk in, even Russia looking mildly surprised before he grinned wide like a Cheshire cat and slipped an arm around Antonio's shoulders. Gilbert's snarl grew in ferocity while Francis looked disgusted.

"I think it's best if you two leave now, da?" Russia asked, "I don't mean to be rude but we _are_ eating here."

"Yeah… I think it's best you guys go. I'll talk to you later." Antonio grumbled, picking up his fork and dancing the tines along his plate.

Gilbert stood, dusting himself off as if he was trying to remove any trace of Spain or Russia and quirked an eyebrow in their direction.

"Are you sure about that?" He smirked, "Or do I have to tear the hotel apart myself next time?"

"Go." Spain snapped, "Now."

"Nothing would make me happier."


	2. I was missing you

"Fratello! Let me in!" Feliciano cried, pounding his fist on the door. Lovino in response threw his shoe, the heel banging loudly against the wood.

"Go away!" He snarled, turning on his side and drawing the bed covers tighter around himself.

"Please let me in!" Feliciano cried, "France said you were hurting! What happened?!"

"Did Beardy tell everybody?" Lovino snarled.

"No! He found me and Luddy! He said you were really upset!" Feliciano said, continuing to beat against the door, "Let me in! I want to help!"

"You can't!"

"Why?"

"You… you just can't." The fire left Lovino's voice and he curled in tighter on himself. Antonio had left him, left him for Russia of all people! Did that make Russia better than him? Was he worse than the big scary nation everyone was afraid of?

Was he really so bad even Spain would see Russia as a more preferable person to be around?

"Fratello!" Feliciano screamed, "You let me in or I'm breaking down the door!"

"I'd like to see you try that crapface!"

"I will!"

"I doubt it!"

"Here I go!" There was a second or two of silence, than a high pitched shriek as a dull thud rattled the door in its hinges and the sound of something sliding across the wood. Lovino got up to open the door, worry that his little brother had knocked himself out abating his anger for the moment and he saw Feliciano grin up at him in a daze.

"Told you I'd break the door open."

"I think the only thing you broke was your head." Lovino muttered as he pulled Feliciano to his feet and into the hotel room. Feli lost no time in tackling his older brother, whimpering pleas to tell him what was wrong. Lovino began to drag himself, and therefore Feli, towards the bed where he flopped down on the mattress. The two "oofed" as they landed on one another.

"What happened?" Feliciano asked again, sitting up and beside Lovino.

"France did say anything?"

Feliciano reached out to run a comforting hand through Lovino's hair, "Not much."

"I found Spain."

Feliciano frowned, to call someone so close by their Nation name, not their human name, spoke volumes about how much distance Lovino wanted to put between himself and Spain. Human names were used to create connections, bonds with other Nations. Anyone could call you by what you were, England, Spain, France, but only a brother or a lover would ever call you Arthur, Antonio, or Francis.

"Yeah?" Feliciano prodded, his fingers moving to trace a pattern along Lovino's shoulder blade.

"He was eating lunch… with Russia." Lovino muttered, staring blankly ahead as his eyes grew glassy, "I'd spent all morning searching and… and he's cuddled up next to that monster, drapped across him and eating with him… laughing… having a good time."

Feliciano pressed his lips into a thin line, his fingers adding a bit more pressure.

Lovino's eyes met his brother's, "Am I worse than Russia?"

"No!" Feliciano cried, "Russia's scary! You're just… prickly."

"Prickly?"

"Yeah!" Feliciano said, "At first it seems you don't like anybody… but eventually people figure out you just have an explosive personality!"

"Gee thanks." Lovino muttered, moving away from Feliciano and twisting himself up in the bed sheets again.

"Oh come on fratello!" Feliciano sighed, "You know what I mean."

"I don't actually."

"You're just… you…" Feliciano sighed, "You only let the people that matter in. And to matter to you means people have to work at it, they have to earn your affections. You end up mattering to them just as they matter to you."

"And look where that got me!"

"I didn't say the people that would matter to you would be smart."

"He humiliated me!" Lovino cried, turning to look at his little brother, "Everyone knows he betrayed me to go… to go be with Russia of all people." His eyes were beginning to burn, his chest hurting again.

"And we'll kick his butt for that, don't worry." Feliciano smiled wide, "By the time we're done, his brains will be nothing more than pasta!"

Lovino rolled his eyes, Feli had a pasta addiction no one could understand. Despite that, he felt a small smile stretch his lips and despite the sudden blur of tears he at least felt like it was a bit easier to breathe as he lay next to Feliciano, who continued to trace soothing patterns along his back.

* * *

The day had been an odd, annoying one. Nations would glance over in pity as they passed Gilbert and Francis, a few snickering or frowning in confusion. The Baltics looked especially sympathetic, earning a sneer from Gilbert as they hurried past, Francis rolling his eyes.

"You'd think he'd at the very least have better taste!" Gilbert ranted as Francis combed his hair in the bathroom, the former nation tearing paper towels out of their dispenser and wadding them into tight little balls to toss to the trash, "Who wants any piece of that freak?"

"Is he really so bad?" Francis asked, his comb slowly tugging through his hair, "I mean, creepy sure. But I wonder just how much his reputation precedes him sometimes-I know America certainly didn't help things."

"You didn't see the scars on Lithuania's back…" Gilbert muttered, "You didn't have to live with him for decades."

Francis nodded quietly, the tightness of his friend's voice prompting him to steer the conversation in a new direction, "Well I'm more surprised he just forgot about Romano the way he did-how he was so indifferent to standing him up?"

"That was just weird." Gilbert nodded, "Maybe it's Russian black magic? Made Antonio forget about everything but him."

"I doubt Russia has access to magic," Francis snickered, "Otherwise we'd all be in a lot of hot-hang on."

"What?"

Francis was staring at himself in the mirror, frowning as he tried to think. Then, like a switch being flipped, he was alive. Francis stuffed the small comb into his jacket pocket, turning and sprinting from the bathroom with a clueless Gilbert at his heels.

"Where are you going?!"

"Magic! It's the only thing that makes sense right?" Francis said as he quickly spun his way down the hall, dodging other nations, hotel goers, and staff. Gilbert was not so lucky as he nearly caused a girl holding several heavy looking bags of luggage to trip and nearly collided face-to-face with China.

Francis hurried ahead, undeterred as he sprinted towards the front doors of the hotel, "Angleterre was delayed getting here last night, but his plane should have touched down an hour ago. Which means, he's walking through that door any minute-"

"What are you doing?" Gilbert groaned as he caught up, looking back to see the girl and China both shooting him a dirty look before they proceeded on their way.

Francis turned and grabbed Gilbert by the shoulders, looking him in the eye with a buzz of almost childlike excitement, "The reason our dear Antonio has been so out of character, so willing to tear Romano's heart to shreds and associate with a man most consider a very, very dangerous monster-it can only be magic, non?"

"Or Toni's just turned into an a-"

"No! No it can't be true, not so suddenly and not to Romano. Maybe us, sure, but not Romano." Francis grinned, releasing his friend and turning back to watching the revolving hotel door. A late arriving nation or two would spill through here and there amongst other travelers, the shaggy crop of blonde hair remaining absent for a good ten minutes before at long last, much to the impatient Gilbert's relief, the Brit was marching through the door looking as sour as he'd ever seen him.

"You think he's even willing to talk to us?" Gilbert wondered as Francis let out an excited squeal, "Maybe we should just ask one of his sorcerer buddies, I don't think Romania would be to opposed to talking to us."

"No, no, I'm sure Arthur is the perfect one for the job."

"Why?"

"Because, if we're wrong then who better to give our poor friend the butt kicking he'll deserve?"

With a wicked grin the two approached England, who was talking rather heatedly on his phone and tried to swerve out of their path the closer they got.

"I've already told you three times Alfred, I'm standing in the bloody lobby. Now either get down here to help me to my room or be waiting in the restaurant with Matthew for dinner at nine." As the two approaching parties England smashed at the end call button furiously before turning a cold glare to the other two, "Can I help you?"

"Perhaps," Francis smiled, "Tell me, Anglettere, what do you know about mind control magic?"

* * *

"Now are you sure?"

"Positive… for the most part."

"We don't know, but his behavior suggests so."

"Right… well, can't say I wasn't looking forward to something like this." Arthur stepped from his hiding spot near a small gathering of chairs and a cough where Spain and Russia sat close together, Russia whispering something to Spain who began to snicker. The two were people watching, discreetly pointing things out about the passersby and whispering to each other, causing the other to begin giggling. They were loud enough to be heard a few times, causing whoever they were snickering at to turn and frown before hurrying away.

Just as they sent Latvia hurrying away Arthur began to approach, smiling amiably as he came to stand to the side of them.

"And how are we this afternoon?" He asked.

"Better than you I'd imagine Eyebrows." Spain said cheerily.

"Such hostility, and I haven't done a thing today." Arthur replied, sounding just as upbeat, an arm curling behind his back. He pointed to the two of them, "I must ask, when did this happen?"

"Last night." Russia said.

"Quite magical." Spain added, leaning back against the couch just as Arthur's other arm appeared with a pen light shining bright in those dull green eyes, a glitter of gold shining where the light hit, "Hey!"

"Interesting." Arthur nodded as Russia began to frown and Spain rubbed at his eyes.

"What's the big idea idiota?!" Spain snapped, blinking.

Arthur shrugged nonchalantly, his placating smile dissaporating as his gaze settled on Russia, "Nothing really… just wanted to see something."

"Me kicking you in the gut?!"

"No, but some close to that. Not now though, I'm sure the two of you have more… whatever it was you were doing, to do."

Quickly Arthur turned and walked away, speeding past Francis and Gilbert who'd peeked around the corner to watch and had no choice but to follow him further down the hall and away from Spain and Russia. When the two caught up to him they could see he was twitching with anger, his breathing even.

"Well?"

"Oh it's magic alright-my magic." He hissed.

"You did this?" Gilbert exclaimed.

"Not exactly." Arthur said evenly, swallowing. He leaned in, looking the two of them in the eye, "A few weeks ago, Russia paid me a personal visit, said he needed help."

"And you just blindly offered your assistance?" Gilbert accused. His brain was flying at high speed, the anger he'd been feeling directed at Antonio redirecting itself to Arthur and exacerbating to a righteous fury.

"Well it wasn't an England to Russia sort of help he was requesting." Arthur said, "More of an Arthur to Ivan. He told me his sister had gotten more aggressive in her attempts at being with him, he asked for a charm or potion that would calm her to the point of at least being civil."

Francis nodded, "And what you gave him was…?"

"A suggestion potion." Arthur said, "He would have needed to get the intended target, who I assumed was Belarus, to drink it and then simply suggest whatever he was hoping to get them to do."

"How did he get Toni to drink it?" Gilbert wondered, glancing back the way they'd come where he assumed Antonio was still sitting cuddled up to Russia, grinning like an idiot as he was forced to like him.

"More importantly, how do we break this spell?" Francis asked.

"There's a talisman that goes along with it," Arthur said, "It holds the spell's power and should we manage to break it we should be able to snap Spain out of it. But I've no idea how we'll get our hands on it. Russia must have known what I was looking for when I shined that light in Spain's eyes, there's no doubt he'll be on his guard now."

"So we just break into his hotel room as soon as we possibly freakin' can." Gilbert suggested.

"Assuming the beast even brought it with him," Francis sighed, "Suppose he left it at home in a nice big safe for safe keeping?"

"No he'd have to have it close by, otherwise the charm loses power." Arthur said, "In fact… why don't we try something."

* * *

Romano tried not to feel bothered by the stares he was receiving by the people around him. He tried to block out the quiet mutterings he was positive were taking place around him and attempted to concentrate on dinner. Around him, Germany was quietly picking at his plate and Feli was talking a mile a minute, possibly trying to provide some sort of distraction. It wasn't working in the slightest.

In fact, Romano had zoned out for the better part of the conversation, only roused to what was going on around him when he realized his brother was repeatedly saying his name.

"What do you want?" He snapped.

"I was wondering if you wanted to share a dessert with me." Feli pointed to the restaurants dessert menu, which wasn't much beyond variations of ice cream of cake. The small restaurant Feliciano had gotten the potato head to drive them to was small, barely much business going on around them the hour and a half they'd been sitting there. Either this place was having a slow night or they were barely making ends meet.

"I mean I guess," He sighed, "You pick…"

"Well Luddy likes this one so-"

"Then I want that one." Romano said, pointing to the dessert Germany hadn't picked. Only to late did he catch the quirk of a smile coming from the both of them and he realized he may have been tricked.

The desserts, much like the dinner before it, was slow getting to the table, allowing the three a chance to talk more. Or, more accurately, Feli to talk while Germany listened and Romano tried his best to ignore the both of them. Which only sort of worked until he heard "Spain" somewhere in the conversation.

"What was that?" He said, turning to stare between the two.

Germany had his water glass pressed to his lips and he looked down into it sheepishly while Feliciano looked between the two.

"It's nothing fratello, just-"

"No, no, what did you say?"

Germany set the glass against his chin, "I merely wondered what had happened between the two of you… I… I saw him with Russia and I wasn't quite sure what maybe was going on-"

Romano's face grew dark and Germany's lips quickly shut. Feliciano looked exasperated, and shot one of the few irritated looks he'd ever shot to Germany.

"He proved himself to be what I'd always feared him to be, that's all." Romano said evenly, "Not that anyone should be surprised right?"

"What do you mean by that?" Germany asked, ignoring the shake of the head Feliciano gave him.

"Well," Romano said dryly, "Why else would anyone bother with the lesser half of the Italy's? He simply got tired of trying to get whatever it was he probably wanted from me and chose to jump ship-to spend time with his own kind."

"Well then he's stupid."

Romano, and even Feliciano, looked a bit surprised to hear what Germany had said.

Germany looked a bit uncomfortable, biting his lip here and there as he spoke like he was trying to find the right words to say, "Just… nobody should use someone like that. And it's stupid to try because there's no way they'd actually be happy doing that-whether that be because they couldn't find what they wanted emotionally or they're just going to get tired of trying to get what they want materialistically after a while."

"Do you watch daytime soap opera-"

"I'm talking about actual people who want to be happy." Germany said quickly, his cheeks slowly coloring, "Just… well, how do I say it… just, he's an idiot to think he could just play around with you like that or that he could be happy doing that to you. And he's very stupid to think he'd be happy with Russia, the man means well sometimes but there are times he goes about showing that the wrong way. My brother probably didn't make things easy on himself during his time spent with Russia but I can understand why people would be uncomfortable around him."

"Unless you're Spain…" Romano sighed.

"But Spain's nice to everyone; I doubt he'd be all that uncomfortable around anyone no matter who they are." Germany said, "But that doesn't excuse what he did to you. No one should do that to the person they care about."

"Well thank you, very important and uplifting as that was." Romano snapped sarcastically.

"Lovi!" Feli chastised.

"Oh and Romano?" Germany said quickly, placing a hand on Feliciano's shoulder to quiet him just as the desserts finally arrived.

"What?"

With a grin, Ludwig said, "You aren't the lesser of the Italy's."

Not sure how to respond, Romano shoveled a large chunk of cake into his mouth.


	3. I was worried about you

"You cannot be serious!" Gilbert groaned as Arthur pulled his phone out of his pocket for the third time in as many minutes.

"We come to you in our hour of _need_ and all you can think about are your ex-colonies!" Francis snapped.

Arthur bristled, the vibrating phone in his hand screaming for attention, the name _Alfred_ flashing across the screen.

"I promised the both of them dinner," He growled, "Now you can either let me call to cancel or I will be making my way down there and we can help Spain tomorrow morning. Which will it be?"

Francis rolled his eyes, backing off and crossing his arms, "And just _what_ is your plan?"

"Well there's always the traditional approach-the direct one." Arthur grinned as he began to text Alfred, turning to watch as Prussia and Francis frowned in confusion. He led the two through the lobby of the hotel towards the elevators, where Spain and Russia just so happened to be standing. Around them several nations gave a wide berth, many looking on in surprise or confusion as the two held hands and Spain snickered at almost everything Russia would mutter.

Upon seeing England approach the two frowned, Spain taking a small step back as if to prepare himself to run. England paid him no mind however, instead turning to Russia with a sour look.

"I do believe you have a capitalist to be scaring the wits out of."

Russia frowned in confusion, his grip on Spain's hand growing tighter, "I do?"

"Why yes, after all, we must _all settle our debts_ , mustn't we?" A sense of understanding passed between the two and Russia nodded quickly.

"Of course, how could I forget?" He chuckled, turning to Spain, "I forgot I had made plans to prank America with Eyebrows, if you want to wait in the room?"

There was a flash of hurt as Spain was asked to leave but he nodded anyway, "Sure, whatever you want."

"Wonderful," Russia beamed, "I promise it will not take long. I will try to be quick."

"Whatever you say," Spain sighed, reaching up to peck Russia on the cheek, several nations blanching at the action. Russia's face blanked for a moment, surprise stunning him. He turned to watch Spain go as the elevator opened with a ding, a satisfied smirk scrunching his nose and eyebrows as the door closed.

"So," He said, turning back to England and the two began to walk, "Where are we going?"

"Not too far." England grinned, glancing back for the briefest of seconds to see Francis and Prussia were following at a distance, "You know, I can't say I'm happy with what you've done."

"Why should you care?" Russia frowned, "It's not like the two of you were _friends_ or anything."

"No," England agreed just as Alfred and Matthew appeared from around the corner, twisting Russia's arms behind his back, "But you did lie to me, can't let something like that go unpunished now can we?"

"Ah America," Russia grunted as he struggled, "I didn't know you still played England's lapdog from time to time."

Alfred bristled at the comment but said nothing, instead turning to Arthur, "Where do you want him?"

"I think my room should do, we'll have everything we need."

* * *

"Fratello come on!"

"No way!"

"Oh come on! It's better than just suffering in silence like this!"

"You just want to humiliate me further!"

Feliciano growled, his hold on his brother's wrist tightening as the elder tried to escape. The two were currently traveling down the hall, Romano against his own will, towards a certain Spaniard's room. After dinner with Ludwig, Feliciano had gotten the idea in his head that confronting Spain over his actions was the next logical choice.

Romano had not been so open to the idea.

"It's better to get everything out into the air! Tell him how you feel!"

"I feel like I'm being slowly tortured to death! Let go!" Romano cried, a bit surprised his little brother was so strong. Maybe all that training had paid off…

The two were fast approaching the door, ten feet… seven feet… four feet…

Feli was rapping on the door.

"He probably won't even answer!" Romano snarled, "Too busy in there getting smothered by Russia and his great fat creepy-"

The door swung open and Spain's head popped out, eyes glowing with hope dimming as the object of his affections didn't appear before him. He frowned seeing the Italys, looking around in case perhaps Russia was playing a joke.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

"Lovi wants to talk." Feliciano said, tugging his brother back as Romano tried to step away.

Spain nodded as he frowned, "Ah, later perhaps? I'm a bit busy right now."

"It's really important."

"I'd be happy to talk tomorrow." Spain insisted, smiling.

"I think you better talk now bro, not gonna be doing much else for awhile."

The three turned to see America and Canada fast approaching, a rather serious mood overtaking the normally rambunctious twin while his counterpart looked merely apologetic.

"What are you-" before Romano could complete the question, all three of them were shoved inside the hotel room by the North American brothers; Canada quick to close and lock the door, leaning his entire body weight against it.

"What's the big idea crapface!"

"Now see, I could explain it to you like I'm sure you want me to, or I could just wait for England who'll make it sound less stupid and more magical," America explained, turning to Canada with a frown, "Wait wouldn't making it sound magical still make it sound stupid?"

Canada's only reply was a shrug.

Spain looked around at his unwanted guests, taking a long cleansing breath, "Look, I'm sure whatever game you guys are playing would be more fun _tomorrow_. I actually already have plans tonight and I'd like to keep them."

"Sorry dude, Russia just got tied up in another engagement."

Spain frowned, "What are you talking about?"

"He and Artie have some important things to discuss-trust me, I think you'd rather they did." America said.

"England? What's he got to do with any of this?" Feliciano couldn't help but ask. Beside him Romano began to frown as the wheel of his brain began to turn. Did England have something to do with this? Was it old rivalries being stirred up? How did that connect to Russia and Spain's apparently new-found love for each other?

Spain scowled and crossed his arms, looking more like an angry child than an irritated nation. It was rather cute in Romano's opinion, the way the Spaniard's nose would crinkle up and his shoulders would hunch. When he get really mad his mouth would even pucker sometimes and he'd stamp his foot-only before exploding into some fiery rant that usually sent most men crying, usually France or Gilbert.

Romano sighed, leaning against the wall beside his brother who was now trying to beg America into letting them out.

* * *

Russia reclined lazily in the hotel desk chair, his gaze sliding between Prussia and France alternatively as England searched his coat. When the item he was looking for couldn't be found the Brit snarled and tossed the article of clothing back at the large bear of a man.

"What was it you were looking for?" Ivan smiled cheerily as he slipped the coat over his shoulders, "Perhaps I could help if you were less rude and more open with me."

"Don't be coy," England snarled, "Where's the talisman?"

"Talisman?"

"For the suggestion spell? The one you said was for your sister?"

Russia slapped a hand to his chest, his mouth hanging open in shock, "Why England, you think I would try to alter the mind of my very own sister?"

"You seemed pretty willing a few weeks ago."

"Never!" Russia exclaimed, looking appalled, "I could never do anything to my sister she didn't want, even if that would make things easier for me."

"But you'll do it to other nations? Sounds like you're declaring war _Ivan_." Prussia snarled.

Ivan's nose crinkled in disgust at how informally Prussia addressed him but a moment later he again displayed that frustratingly amiable expression. He smiled tensely and leaned forward onto his elbows, staring right at Prussia.

"Are you jealous it wasn't you I wanted?" He asked gently and Prussia sputtered in shock and disgust. France's face twisted with fury and the two seemed to be trying to hold each other back while at the same time launch themselves at the Motherland. Ivan chuckled at the show and England groaned into his hands.

"Perhaps England will lend me more of the spell?" Ivan continued, enjoying the way Prussia and France's faces colored with anger, "I'll get everyone to love me!"

"You disgusting fleabag tool!" France managed to shout before Prussia shoved him back down where he was sitting and England slammed his fist on the desk.

"That's enough!" He shouted, silencing them all and looking at Ivan, "Russia tell me where that bloody talisman is or I promise-"

"You mean this one?" Russia withdrew the small wooden ornament and clutched it tightly in his fist, "Why do you need it so bad England? Are you planning on making America love you again?"

England's fingers twitched and he looked about ready to snap before he swallowed his anger and reached out for the talisman.

"Or perhaps you're planning to poison the whole world, make yourself not alone anymore."

"Was that your plan this whole time?" England asked, "Because I must say this has been a rather strange way of going about it. What does cursing one do for the rest of us?"

Russia looked like he was about to reply, but instead he merely smiled and pressed the talisman to his chest, "How far are we from Spain's room?"

"How should I bloody know? I only just-"

"We're on the opposite side of the hotel." France frowned, "Why?"

* * *

Antonio had tried to reason, debate, and fight his way out in what seemed every manor possible. It hadn't taken him long before he was slumped against the wall next to the door, America watching him with a mix of pity and amusement.

Romano and Feli remained where they sat against their own wall while Canada had sequestered himself in the corner of the room in the desk chair, typing away on his phone. Things were fairly silent, no one feeling a need to speak given the somewhat awkward circumstances, even Feliciano, and so Romano shuffled against the wall as he watched Antonio stare blankly at the floor.

It was like watching someone in a trance, his eyes were wide and blank, he hardly even blinked. It was almost unsettling, but Romano couldn't look away. Then, he noticed Spain's eye twitch and the man began to fidget. He scratched at his chest and gave a cough as he frowned in discomfort, his movements increasing. The scratching began to strengthen and soon he was reaching underneath his shirt to tear at the skin beneath.

"Antonio?" Romano's voice drew the entire room to attention.

"Uh-oh." America muttered as Antonio began to shake violently as his fingernails tried to satisfy an itch over his heart.

* * *

"We better hurry," Arthur said, turning to pull a small leather bound notebook from one of his bags, "I suspect Spain will be feeling the ramifications of being away from his… _beloved_ for too long." He sighed, shaking his head, "Normally he'd at the very least need to stay _near_ the talisman for it's power to hold but I'm betting with Russia's special instructions needed to force a relationship Spain could be as mad as a dog any minute now."

"What are you going to do?" Prussia asked as Francis shot Russia a dirty look.

"Well… I need the talisman." Arthur said, looking at Russia, "But I don't feel like breaking my neck tonight."

"Very smart England, I applaud you." Russia chuckled.

* * *

"Hey dude, calm down!" America said as Antonio clutched at his hair, his limbs shaking as he chewed at his bottom lip.

"Al it has to be the spell." Canada muttered from beside his brother, glancing back at their other two captors nervously.

"Spell?" Romano frowned, "What spell?"

"Russia cast a spell on Spain to make him like him." America said quickly, darting forward to pull Spain away from the wall when he began to rock his head backwards.

"What?" Romano rose to his feet, the air sucked from his lungs.

Unfortunately that's as far as explanations got as Spain used America's close proximity to his advantage and head-butted the blonde in the forehead. America cried out in shock and pain before Spain threw him into Canada, the two landing painfully on the floor in a mess of twisted up limbs.

"Wait!" Canada cried, probably the loudest Romano had ever heard him, as Spain turned and threw open the door, fleeing down the hall.

"Dammit!" America cried, finally disentangling himself from his brother and taking off after their captive. Canada followed, close behind, pausing at the doorway to look back at Romano apologetically before dashing away.

"Romano?" Feliciano whispered before Romano too was running like his life depended on it.


End file.
